I'll give them / one hell of a show
~Give Them a Show, Ella Hunt, Paul Kaye
There's a world out there / Why does no one care?
~Break Away, Ella Hunt, Malcolm Cumming, Sarah Swire

For the record?

People suck.

She didn't know if it was this new world or if she'd just never noticed it before, but people were selfish and cruel to stray dogs. Maybe it was because it was a city, one with way too many drug addicts and that never slept.

Or maybe it's because she's not exactly a pretty dog, big and kind of scary looking. When she walked by, people pulled their children close for fear of her snapping, and it did kind of hurt.

And as the days passed by, it only got worse. Her fur matted and tangled, became covered in city grime - oil and dirt, twigs and stones and gravel and who-knows-what from what she'd managed to scavenge (and oh how low she'd fallen, she'd retched the first time she'd managed to dig out a Whopper, or whatever it was called in this new world, the wrapper had been covered in ketchup, but she'd been so hungry and it had only been half eaten) and she was pretty sure some blood that she hadn't been able to get out after some asshole had thrown a beer can at her head.

She knows she slinks when she walks.

Her head low between her shoulders. Tail swishing behind her for balance - and she has a tail, how weird is that? - as her shoulders and hips roll and sway.

More feline than dog.

But she doesn't want to hurt anyone. Had been only ever placid since waking up in that dumpster in this world, been almost more so as a human.

But people are afraid of her. She's large, she knows that. Has to look down to meet the gaze of the children that the mothers and fathers pull to their sides. And when she'd caught a glimpse of herself in a puddle, her fur had been black as pitch.

She can't blame them, but she really does wish they'd give her the benefit of the doubt.

She's so hungry.

She sleeps during the day.

There's an alley. It's not quiet - the city is loud, louder than the time she'd visited New York in her world (and her world, that's such a strange concept, and it should alarm her more but maybe she's in shock, maybe she's focused more on surviving and later it will hit her harsh as that beer can had), roaring in her ears - but less loud, shielded by cobblestone walls on three sides, and other dogs have left it be. She doesn't question her good luck - she hasn't had much of it lately - and strikes up an uneasy truce with the alley-cats that call it home, gives the cat she calls 'Mama' on account of the litter that mewls at her side a wide berth and sleeps during the day.

Night is safer.

There are people - New York is very much the city that never sleeps - but not as many. They don't notice if she walks by, her black fur helping hide her if she stays away and, sometimes, if they're not looking, she'll steal something they've left unattended, wolfing it down before they can see her.

In her world, she'd stayed inside at night. Her home hadn't been a city, hadn't been half so big, but it still wasn't safe for any sort of woman to walk around in the middle of the night. Now, though criminals walked the streets, and she had to be careful not to step on the poor homeless people - and she felt horrible, because they were the ones most likely to spare some of their sparse rations to ease the pain in her stomach - it was safe.

She had a heartbeats' warning - the rushing of rapid foot-beats - before someone stomped on her tail.

She squealed at the top of her lungs, lunging to her feet and swaying as her head rushed (oh, god, she was hungry), spinning to face an apologetic looking man who looked very familiar and… wow, that shouldn't have been surprising considering that she'd seen people carrying Starkphones not Iphones but really it was.

Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton.

She'd always been a Hawkeye fan, and his reddish hair and blue eyes were unmistakable.

'Oh son of a bitch.' and then, licking her lips when her tail throbbed, "Son of a bitch you stepped on my tail!"

She'd learned in the beginning that no one could understand her, so it was a rather pleasant surprise - polite Hawkeye! - when he put his hands up and grinned sheepishly, "Easy boy, sorry boy!"

"Not a boy!"

"Didn't see you there!" slowly, once she turned to lick at her poor, poor tail (it hurt!) he lowered his hands and moved to sit against the wall, crossing his legs. "Just need to hide for a minute. Damn, those Anti-vengers are dicks!"

Right. The Avengers. Those would be. A thing.

So would villains, of course. So she'd have to be looking out for that. "Fuuuuun."

Food wrappers crinkled, and her head jerked up so quickly her neck cracked.

'Food?'

Clint froze, his hamburger halfway to his mouth, and looked from it to her, back to his burger, then back to her slowly widening green eyes. A pitiful whimper tore from her throat when he moved to take a bite and, finally, he sighed, shoulders slumping, and broke off a handful and threw it at her feet.

Her tail wagged violently, nearly taking her off her paws, and she gulped it down in one bite without tasting it, god food, and stared at him pleadingly, please sir, I want some more?

He stared at her, looked at his burger, looked back at her, looked back at his burger, wolfed down a bite, then tore off another fistful. Offering it to her, he clicked his tongue, "Hungry, huh? Come on, come on, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Turning to look away from her, he began to finish off his burger.

She stared him down - it was Clint, it was Hawkeye, but the sweetest looking people had been the ones to fling things at her, so it was only slow that she moved, slinking with her stomach to the ground and pausing every few steps to make sure he hadn't moved, looking off at the street.

Finally, she was nose to finger, and had to be very careful not to take off his finger as she took the food and gulped it down, eyeing Clint's shit-eating grin. "See? Didn't hurt you, it's tasty!"

(That night, she had the shits because of the mayo, so he was a liar. Fucking mayo.)

He stood and she scurried back, but he only dusted off his knees and peeked around the corner of the alleyway. With a nod, he grinned at her, and she moved to trot forward hesitantly - food? Yes? Please? More?

"Sorry boy, gotta go. Steve is gonna kill me for bailing on him." Clint saluted at her - she trotted after him, but didn't dare leave her alley during the day, settled for peering out after him as he slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

"Not a boy!"